


No time like the Present

by haku23



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Party, F/F, M/M, Reunions, background McHanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23
Summary: The newly formed Overwatch has a Christmas party and the brand new member Pharah gifts them with her presence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had a sudden need for this fic and so I wrote it though I have never written either Pharah or Mercy before. Not all of the characters are in this just because the team is still assembling!
> 
> Working title: Fareeha and Mercy are thirsty but not for punch lmfao.
> 
> Unbetaed, so if you see any mistakes please let me know if you don't mind!

Lúcio breaks off from their conversation with a jolt and “aw man, gotta switch up the mix” before dashing off towards the sound equipment set up behind the banquet table. Each of them had contributed something which leaves the table a mixing pot of cuisines, but she cannot help but smile to see the group assembled again-even if the memory of the old Overwatch still lingers here like a ghost. Tonight, though, the spectres have been covered by decorations both handmade and store-bought.

  
Angela sips at the punch in her hands and watches McCree laughing with Hanzo who keeps loudly insisting he is not drunk even while he wobbles, keeps an eye on Lena who zips around the room playing waitress, and Genji clad in a bright green sweater with flashing lights sitting by the window talking to Zenyatta.

  
In contrast, she stands by the tree alone. Not unusual, she spends the whole day alone other than when Lúcio joins her or McCree comes to furtively grab some condoms from the base stash, but the season leaves her thoughts gloomy. With a shake of her head she resolves to talk to someone by the end of the night. Reinhardt, maybe; he engages in some sort of game with Torbjörn at the moment, so she imagines by the end of the night he will have need of her.

  
Athena’s voice cuts in over the music, drawing everyone away from their conversations with an announcement of an unknown intruder on the premises. Just as they begin to rise from their seats her voice comes again, “alert cancelled.”

  
Lena halts mid run and dials backwards, catching the tray dropping in the air before it hits the ground.

  
Angela looks at Reinhardt who shrugs. The moment passes and then Winston finally appears; and he isn’t alone.

  
Fareeha’s cheeks are red, eyes sparkling in the lights strung around the doorway as Winston clears his throat loudly and stands up taller, “um, excuse me. I meant to tell you all but I didn’t-obviously I didn’t-this is Agent Pharah who will be joining us from today.”

  
“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” McCree hoots, overpowering the music. Lúcio turns the volume down to a dull mumble and Fareeha turns to McCree with a wide grin.

  
“Jesse?”

  
Angela watches the conversation with a smile-Fareeha had been younger than them then, and rarely on base but they’d stuck together anyway. Ana hadn’t left them alone much, but she remembers her tagging along asking them too many questions about what being in Overwatch was like, if she might be able to join one day.

  
She manages to tear her eyes away long enough that when Fareeha taps her on the shoulder she jumps.

  
“Ack, I didn’t see you there.”

  
“No, that’s all right, I snuck up on you-somewhat of an accomplishment for me now.”

  
“You’ve,” she looks up at her, mouth abruptly dry at the site of how tightly the black turtleneck clings to Fareeha’s now impossibly broad shoulders, “grown.”

  
“So have you.”

  
They smile silently at one another for a moment before they laugh, breathless. “Would you like some punch? Reinhardt’s recipe, of course.”

  
“I’d love some,” she grins, “punch. I mean. I’d love some punch.”

  
“Of course,” she tips her head towards the table and they walk together. “What have you been up to since I saw you last?”

  
Fareeha shrugs with nonchalance that fits about as well as her shirt as she ladles some of the red punch into a glass, “I did a stint with the Egyptian army, up until yesterday I was with Helix Security watching over some...classified materials.”

  
“My goodness, you have been busy,” Angela tops up her own glass and they reach in unison for one of McCree’s cookies with piped icing details she is not entirely convinced McCree did alone. Their fingers brush and she pulls her hand back with a laugh, “apologies.”

  
“Not at all. About the apology. Though often I didn’t feel like I was working, and now I’m here. I’d always dreamed of being stationed here,” she glances around the room with nearly childlike wonder before looking back to Angela with a smile, “ah. What about you?”

  
“Here and there. I was in the Middle East up until a month ago with Doctor’s Without Borders, before that Mexico, and before that Russia,” she looks out the window to the sea, “but it is in some ways good to back.”

  
“Russia? Sounds dangerous. The Omnic population there is violent.”

  
She shrugs and dares another glance at Fareeha’s figure, “I go where I’m needed, and I am unfortunately quite accustomed to violence. But that’s a conversation for another time. What will you be doing with us?”

  
“I pilot the Raptora armour; a flight suit with hover capability, jump jets, and high-powered threat neutralization technology.”

  
“Weapons.”

  
She ducks her head, “weapons. Winston said that you’re still using the Valkyrie system?”

  
“I am, though we do not see much combat as of yet. In the case that we do I will of course be glad to fly the friendly skies with you.”

  
“I’m sure they’re only friendly because you’re there.”

  
“You haven’t seen me on the battlefield,” Angela smiles, and Fareeha laughs, nodding as she holds up her cookie in surrender.

  
“You have me there. It’s good to see you. Did I already say that?” she takes a bite of her cookie and Angela gets the idea that it’s to keep herself from saying anything else. A shame, she’d just taken a bite of her own for the same reason.

  
“Okay we’re gonna break it on down for a few minutes, give you lovebirds out there a chance to do your thing,” Lúcio’s voice says over PA system. The light slowly dim, and the music, now back to regular volume, slows to a soft song. She looks over at him and he does a few exaggerated winks in response that make her face flush. McCree drags a surprisingly pliant Hanzo with him to the middle of the room, Reinhardt picks up Torbjörn and swings him around like an especially stout ragdoll while Lena films the whole thing on her phone.

  
“Jesse and that guy, huh?” Fareeha asks, and Angela turns away from the strange-Hanzo manages as much grace as possible while as drunk as he is-but sweet display.

  
“Agent Hanzo. A bit of an odd couple, but only in looks I think.”

  
Fareeha glances at Lúcio who, upon Angela looking adopts a far too innocent looking expression, before boring a hole in her cookie with her eyes, “You don’t have anyone?”

  
“It has never been a priority.”

  
“I understand.”

  
“Not that-of course I wouldn’t mind-but,” she shakes her head, “I’ve moved around so much.”

  
“Uh, pretty sure I said all lovebirds, and I’m still seeing some of you not on the dancefloor,” Lúcio insists, “Zen, Genji, don’t think I don’t see you over there.”

  
“What about you? Do you have anyone special?” she asks, her breath catching in her throat as she awaits the answer. Of course she must. Someone in the army, or with her new job, or just-someone. She pushes the thoughts from her head. It doesn’t matter whether Fareeha has someone or not, it isn’t as though she intends anything.

  
“No, never had the time either. I had. A hard couple of years a couple of years back; it wasn’t a priority for me either.”

  
“I’m sorry.”

  
The song ends, and another begins much like the last one. Angela raises an eyebrow at Lúcio who just shrugs, smiles. But Hanzo and McCree at least look like they’re having a good time, wrapped in one another’s embrace. She sighs, and takes a sip of punch.

  
“Are you jealous?” Fareeha asks and points to McCree with her lips that Angela’s eyes get stuck on, “you guys were friends, right?”

  
“Work friends. Nothing else, and no. Not jealous,” she forces herself to meet her eyes.

  
“So you’d dance with me?”

  
“Oh.”

  
“If you want to. You don’t have to, I just thought-“

  
“I’d like to.”

  
It’s strange, her brain tries reconciling the child she knew with the woman who takes her hand in calloused but gentle ones and she finds she can’t. Fareeha from then is only a snippet of less than a handful of memories, the woman before her might as well be a different person entirely. They join the couples on the dancefloor as the song reaches the second verse, which means it will inevitably end soon but she rests her hand on Fareeha’s shoulder anyway.

  
“Here, and here,” she says and repositions her hand in the proper place on her waist. Her hand is warm in her own, slightly sweaty even, but she can’t tell if its her own or Fareeha’s doing the sweating. The hand on her waist rests there only lightly, as though afraid to break something. Her own grip on Fareeha’s shoulder is not much tighter, the idea of truly holding on, of claiming her as her dance partner making her heart beat quickly like her first time performing surgery.

  
“Is it strange?” she asks when they start to move slowly to the beat, “last time we saw one another I was a kid.”

  
“Not at all, I barely recognize you, you’re so,” Angela feels her face heat, “grown up.”

  
“To be honest, I expected you to be wearing something more Christmas-y. You always had the breast costumes at Halloween,” she smiles then slams on the breaks as she sputters, “I mean best you had the best costumes.”

  
Angela glances down at her shirt-a white, glittery off the shoulder top that well, she can’t deny the view from Fareeha’s vantage point gives ample opportunity for Freudian slips. And she can’t exactly judge her when her own thoughts sing Fareeha’s praises in less than appropriate ways for a work Christmas party.

  
“If I’d known you were coming I might have put something together,” she takes a step back, taking the lead, and Fareeha follows her, “maybe for New Year’s.”

  
“I’ll look forward to it.”

  
The song ends, and she stops, but doesn’t pull away, “thank you. Unlike Jesse, you didn’t step on my feet.”

  
“I was 17 and ain’t never seen a pretty girl before, can ya blame me?” the man himself says from behind her. She realizes abruptly that they’ve made their way to the other side of the room, and takes a step forward that Fareeha doesn’t echo leaving them pressed together.

  
“I expected a little more from someone so cocky, can you blame me?”

  
Hanzo barks a laugh, and McCree shushes him. “You are cocky. Very.”

  
“Very funny, darlin’. Anyway it’s good to have you with us Fareeha, sure you’ll be a great member of the team. Now if you’ll excuse me, I oughta get Hanzo here to bed.”

  
“Remember, sleep on your side just in case.”

  
“Don’t worry, doc, we know the drill.”

  
With Jesse and Hanzo gone everyone else takes to the couches now freed up from Hanzo’s surprisingly wide-reaching sprawl. Lúcio joins them, flinging himself onto the couch beside Lena and leaning his elbow on the back of it in an attempt at casual as he and Lena echoes the movement, though her face manages to be much less casual than Lúcio manages. Angela ignores their scrutiny; the pair of them are two well-meaning vultures, and in time they will have Reinhardt in on it too. For now, though, she enjoys how Fareeha’s shoulder touches hers, the touch inconsequential and yet all the same exciting.

  
“Don’t think you’ve met Lúcio, have you, Fareeha?” Lena asks after a moment.

  
She shakes her head, “I know he has interesting choices in music.”

  
Lúcio gasps in a breath and holds his hand to his chest in mock offense, “hope you mean good interesting.”

  
“That is what I try to tell him! The kids these days have no respect for the classics-“

  
“We know, like Hasselhoff,” Lúcio makes a face that effectively communicates his thoughts on the matter.

  
“William Shatner’s rendition of Rocket Man should be a national treasure!”

  
“Man...”

  
“Team synergy seems to be good,” Fareeha comments quietly, her mouth so close to Angela’s ear that she shivers.

  
“It seems like it,” she pushes aside the thought that it had been back then too. Gabriel and Jack, they’d worked well together as well, and then Amelie had happened, and the loose threads they’d all tried to ignore started to be tugged and the whole thing began to unravel.

  
“So what do you do, Fareeha? Sniper?” Lena asks.

  
Fareeha shakes her head, “I pilot the Raptora battle armour.”

  
Reinhardt perks up at the mention of armour and she smiles wide, “Not as involved as Reinhardt’s, though.”

  
“Battle armour! We will have to spar!”

  
“Battle armour...” Torbjörn murmurs. Angela can see him rubbing his hands together, though the movement is mostly hidden by Reinhardt’s bulk.

  
“Yes!” Fareeha says, her face going just the slightest bit red before she laughs, “but you might meet your match.”

  
“I look forward to it! Ah, the promise of friendly competition!”

  
The conversation goes much in the same vein until slowly but surely the rest of the team starts to drift away, the playlist comes to an end leaving the room quiet, and the candles set up have burnt down to nubs. Only Fareeha and Reinhardt remain with her, and then he yawns loudly.

  
“Time for bed I think.”

  
Angela smiles, “goodnight, Reinhardt.”

  
“Goodnight.”

  
He ambles off and then only she and Fareeha sit on the couch. At some point one of Fareeha’s arms wrapped around the back of it, and Angela’s shoulder’s too.

  
“You aren’t tired?” Fareeha asks, the smile still etched on her face.

  
“Aren’t you?”

  
“I’m used to long nights, better with good company.”

  
Angela nods, and stifles a yawn behind her hand, “you are not alone in that sentiment.”

  
“You are tired,” Fareeha yawns next and laughs at her expression, “they’re contagious, it’s your fault.”

  
“I will take no such responsibility.”

  
“It is getting late.”

  
“Has Winston shown you to your room?” she asks, and now that she’s yawned once they keep coming.

  
Fareeha taps her lightly, “Stop, or you’ll have me going again. He has, can I walk you to yours?”

  
She swallows, smiles, “Better not, or the rumour mill will be in full swing tomorrow.”

  
“Ah, right,” Fareeha pulls her arm back, and flashes a smile that doesn’t entirely hide how the rejection stings her.

  
“We should make them wait a little longer than your first day, yes?” she tips her head to the side, and Fareeha nods and laughs softly.

  
“Got it.”

  
They walk around the room and blow out the remaining candles. And despite her words they do walk to the door together and stop to face one another. She kicks herself-even in the fluorescent lights of the hallway Fareeha is beautiful, her black hair shining and her dark eyes like polished stones. Her focus is on Angela, the space between them the width of a hair, though neither of them move to touch the other.

  
“Goodnight, Fareeha,” she breathes. The air between them crackles with energy, but she takes a step back.

  
“Goodnight, Angela.”

  
She turns on her heel before she changes her mind and sets off towards the medical bay. After a few steps she hazards a look over her shoulder-Fareeha jolts and waves before turning around and walking quickly in the other direction. She reaches the medbay and sighs, the energy draining with her breath and she leans against the back of her chair.

  
“Pull yourself together,” she says into the empty air.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The first scene that came to me was the "you had the breast costumes" TO BE HONEST and that's entirely why I wrote this... I subscribe to the headcanon that Mercy keeps most people at a distance though she's caring of course, and after seeing people you worked with reduced to hating one another... Who can blame her. 
> 
> I think that they're both pretty confident, but I thought it'd be cute to have both of them flustered as heck in front of each other. :')


End file.
